


From Past to Present

by angels_of_erebor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst, Betrayal, Civil War, Durincest, Fluff, King Thorin, M/M, Slow Burn, Uncle Thorin, Warrior Fili, assassin kili, bad things are gonna happen, definite smut in later chapters, dwarfling fili and kili, idk man, really bitter memories, replace the dragon with an army and...yeah, so much angst holy shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angels_of_erebor/pseuds/angels_of_erebor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught amid a bloody civil war spanning centuries, the dwarves of Erebor are slaughtered in a brutal attack on their homeland. Left are all but a few survivors, forced to build their lives anew in the distant mountains of Ered Luin.<br/>Half a century later, a young dwarf prince is trusted with responsibility over an entire army, weighted by the heavy burden of his forebears. War is coming, and those who wish to survive must prepare.<br/>Meanwhile, on the other side of the realm, his brother is raised with a bitter heart by the same dwarves who brought ruin to his home. Forced to become a puppet to the secretive order operating in the underbelly of the world, he is thrust into the army of Durin as a recruit and aspiring quartermaster, armed with an ancient weapon and a plot to change the fate of all the dwarves in middle-earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Fíli, come back here! Give your uncle some space!" the dwarf mother insisted, laughing freely at the sight of her five year old son climbing about her brother's back, pulling at braids of hair and fur and robe.

                "Oh, leave him be, Dís. He's not doing any harm." Thorin smiled affectionately over his shoulder at the golden-haired dwarfling, supporting him by keeping a gentle hold of both his legs. Fíli giggled delightedly as he finally came to a still sitting atop Thorin's shoulders. Dís sighed and shook her head amusedly, putting her hands on her hips.  
She adored the relationship her brother and son shared.

                "That as it may, night is nearly upon us, and we have a certain little pup who needs his sleep."

                "But I'm not tired!" Fíli interrupted defiantly, shaking his tangle of hair and placing both of his hands defensively on either side of Thorin's face. This earned a soft chuckle from his two elders, and Thorin reached up and gently retracted the dwarfling from his shoulders.

                "Your mother's right. You need sleep - and plenty of it - if you're to grow up to be a big, strong warrior." Thorin explained with enthusiasm once Fíli was back on the ground and bounding to his mother's side.

                A loving smile was upon Dís' lips as she brushed back the flyaway strands to hair obstructing her son's face. Fíli grasped a small fistful of the fur lining her robe with one hand,  and used the other to rub his eye throughout a yawn.

                "Can I say g'night to Kee first?" Fíli chirped, insistently tugging at his mother's dress. This earned warm chuckles from both her and Thorin.

                Ever since his birth, Fíli had been absolutely mesmerized by his little brother. Ever since that moment only weeks ago, when he had first held the fragile sleeping body wrapped in a bundle of blankets. The first time he set sight upon that dark, curly mass of hair and those bright, bright blue eyes gazing up inquisitively at him, Fíli knew. He knew that this vulnerable, soft warmth cradled against his chest would be the most important thing in his entire world for as long as they both shall live. He didn't understand the feeling at first; all he knew was that he wanted to spend every available opportunity with his baby brother, and that he held his breath any time someone other than himself or his mother got close. Even when Thorin, whom he favoured even before his own father, had picked Kíli up and held him with the most assured arms of anyone, Fíli still felt his little heart beat faster, as he saw it his responsibility to make sure no harm came to his brother.   
                Despite only being an infant himself, Fíli had even gone so far as to place his most prized possession; a dragon figure carved out of wood by the expert hand of his uncle, by Kíli's crib, so that even when he wasn't around, he was positive that his baby brother would always be protected from harm.

                "Come on then, my little wolf." Dís said as she picked him up and propped him up on her hip. Fíli waved happily in farewell to the dwarf prince a few feet away.

                "Night, night, uncle Thorin!"

                Thorin chuckled once more, the warmth and love for his sister's son spreading through him all over again.

                "Goodnight. Take care of Kíli and your mother for me."

                "It's Kee! -and I will uncle don't you worry! I will!"

                And with a parting forehead touch from her brother, Dís turned and headed for their bed chambers. Fíli occupied himself throughout the walk by practicing his braiding skills on his mother's waterfall of cascading obsidian hair.

                "You're getting good at that, aren't you?" she noted, impressed by how little discomfort she was in and how tight and neat the braids were compared to some of Fíli previous attempts. The smile the dwarfling beamed back at her looked as if it could make flowers grow. He nodded proudly.

                "I'm practicing so that I can braid Kee's hair when it's longer! And my beard too! I'm gonna have the biggest beard of all the dwarves when I'm older!" he explained, using his hands to demonstrate the ideal length he wished of it, which was down to his small tummy. He then leaned in close to his mother's ear, and cupped his hand between the gap to demonstrate secrecy.

                "It'll be better than uncle's beard, just you wait." he whispered deviously,  then pulled away with his index finger silencing his lips. Dís laughed quietly at her son's pure cheek as they turned the last corner to their quarters in the labyrinth of stone. Fíli held onto his mother's robe as they reached the door to his baby brother's room, and once they were there Dís gently pushed the great iron door open with her free hip, and went to Kíli's side without a word. She didn't have to tell Fíli to be quiet as he leaned away from her to get a decent look at the tiny frame cocooned in rich furs, sleeping peacefully in his crib. Fíli gazed at him in awe, with so much wonder and love in his eyes that even Dís would never understand.

                "Goodnight, Kee." Fíli finally whispered once he had surveyed the bedroom and was satisfied that his brother would be just fine for the night. He brought his first two fingers to his lips, kissed them, then tentatively pressed them to Kíli's forehead, doing an expert job to avoid waking him.

                "Alright, then, time for bed." Dís said quietly once Fíli was done. She allowed him to fall back against her, head nestled in the soft fur of the robe by her neck. Fíli seemed to go on an eventual wind-down after wishing his brother a good sleep, and so he had done that every night since his birth.

                No further effort was needed to get Fíli bathed and ready for bed, and the young dwarfling's eyelids were already falling shut by the time his hair had been dried and he was carried to his bed. Dís finally retired for the night after giving Kíli one last feed, and making sure Fíli was soundly sleeping in the bedroom opposite. She fell into bed beside her husband, of whom Fíli resembled so much, and the two of them curled around each other in an embrace as they drifted off to sleep.


	2. The End of an Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to let the title speak for itself on this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly 7am, I should probably get some sleep. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

                "Ma, I can't sleep. Something's not right." came a tiny voice through the haze of darkness.

                It took a few moments for Dís to stir, and she squinted down at the small figure by her bedside, trying to make sense of the blurred shapes only presenting themselves courtesy of the ever burning light of the torches outside the bedroom, which was only visible through the crack in the doorway which Fíli had left open.

                "Everything's fine, darling, we're here. Come and get in, we'll make the monsters go away." she murmured, voice heavy with sleep. This wasn't the first time Fíli had wandered into their bedroom, claiming for there to be monsters and sprites invading his room and keeping him awake.

                By now, Víli had been awoken too, and he shifted so that there was enough room for Fíli to slip into the bed. Without waiting, the dwarfling scampered onto the bed and crawled beneath the furs that had been pulled back for him. Víli and Dís embraced their son on both sides, Fíli facing his mother but also keeping a reassured grip of his father's hand.

                "I hope Kee's okay." was the last thing Fíli murmured before falling back into a light sleep, the weight of his troubles still burdened without the ease of his parent's presence. Víli brushed some of his son's hair behind his ear, then pressed a softening kiss to his forehead.

                "I'm sure he is, Fíli. I'm sure he is." 

 

* * *

 

 

                It came without warning. No precursor events could ever have alerted the dwarves of Erebor of what was to happen that night.

                The first signs were sudden shifts in the stone, creaking and making the ceiling in many a room crack and erupt with dust. But that wasn't unusual. Being so deep into the body of living rock meant that occasionally things like that were to happen, so nobody paid it any mind.

                Then there was the great crackling and wailing sounds coming from far within the mountain itself. Rocks began to buzz with movement, walls to crack and separate. It was as if the very earth they lived in was waking from its ancient slumber, only to be enraged to find that living souls had found their way so invasively into its heart.

                Dís sat bolt upright in bed, Víli being quick to follow. Fíli merely whimpered in his sleep and turned over, refusing to be disturbed.

                "What in the name of Mahal was that?" she asked slowly, warily reaching out to protectively rest her hand on her son's sleeping frame. Víli shook his head before getting out of bed and heading for the door, taking sure and silent steps. He nudged the iron door open enough to peek his head through, and was alarmed to see one of the royal guardsmen rushing towards him.

                "You have to get out of here, now!" he was yelling, entire face flushed purple as Víli opened the door fully to him. His expression was that of utter shock and his eyes were wide with terror.

                "Why? Whatever's going on?" Dís called from where she was stood by the bed, carefully scooping Fíli, who still refused to wake, into her arms.

                And that was it.   

                All at once the ground beneath their feet surged. Dís managed to steady herself on the post of the bed, but Víli couldn't grasp onto anything before he found himself landing harsh on his back against the icy stone floor.

                "Mahal have mercy, what is all thi-" he growled as he got to his feet and began to address the dwarf guard still outside their quarters, whose panic was growing by the second. But before he could even finish his sentence, a ferocious chain of what appeared to be red and purple fire bolted its way across the ceiling of the hallway.

                And Víli knew exactly what it was.

                "GET DOWN." he yelled, launching himself towards Dís and forcing her to the floor, to the tiny space beneath their bed adjacent to the ground. Fíli squealed in protest as his head knocked sharp against the wooden post upon their descent, and before they had even settled an explosion louder and more violent than any of them had ever experienced before went off in the same spot Víli had been in moments prior. He let out a loud curse in his mother tongue as he hastily got to his feet, thinking only of his youngest son, who was at the farthest end of the hallway. Víli had to get to him; and fast.

                However they were not done just yet.

                Without so much as thirty seconds between the first explosion and the next, this one was powerful enough to shatter the walls of the bedroom, and the iron door snapped into pieces which thundered upon their contact with the floor. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the wooden furniture decorating their bedroom splintered and collapsed.

                

                Dís did her best to shield Fíli from any damage, who was cowering into her chest, his hands a vice-like grip on her night dress as his body shook violently with fear.  After coughing the dust from her lungs, she squinted through the murk clinging to the air and found Víli. Half of his body had been crushed by their wardrobe, as it had taken a great deal of the impact from the explosion and had been forced from its solid position on the wall. He was unmoving, and for a second Dís had thought she'd be gazing upon his corpse. It was only when he forced himself up onto his elbow with a determined groan, and quickly after had managed to free himself, that Dís regulated her breathing.

                A white-hot pain shot through his stomach, but it was only when he heard Dís's shrieks of horror did he look down and realize that he had been impaled by a large splinter of wood as wide as his hand when the wardrobe had all but shattered above him. Blood had deeply stained his already torn bed tunic, and then began to pool on the floor at his feet too. The scent of it was as thick in the air as the dust itself. But Víli was in too much shock to register any kind of pain.

                Fíli attempted to turn his head to get a view of what was happening, but Dís fiercely turned him back to face the safety and comfort of her chest. Such a thing was not meant for such young eyes to witness.

                But then Fíli felt as if his tiny heart might stop.

                Kíli.

                A new attempt to break from his mother's grasp momentarily distracted Dís, but before she could protest another arcane trap went off. This time it was further down the hallway, which only caused Fíli to writhe and squirm twice the best he could to get out of her arms. But it was to no use.

                "We have to get Kee!" he screamed, tears stinging his eyes as he began to imagine his baby brother, so vulnerable and small, all alone in his room, terrified, whilst the walls were caving in around him.

                "We have to get him, ma!! What if he's hurt? We can't leave him behind!" he pleaded, but before he could continue, Víli was already forcing himself to his feet and staggering towards the door, splinter of wood still visible from the center of his back, and he used what was left of the wall for support.

                Dís came back to her senses and loosened her grip on her son in order for her to be able to move the debris now obscuring their exits. Fíli desperately helped, crawling on his tummy and pushing with all his might until some rotting wood which had fallen from the rafters gave way.

                By now Víli was long gone.

                However the fire left from the explosions were beginning to grow at a rapid and alarming pace. Dís called out for the guard's assistance, but it seemed that he had perished when the walls had begun collapsing, and now they were on their own.

                "Come on, Fíli. Let's get you and me both to safety." she stated, doing her upmost best to maintain a level head despite the chaos surrounding them. Fíli scrambled to his feet after crawling out from under the bed, only to crumple to the ground with an agonized yelp as his right leg gave way. Dís' heart sank.

                "Ma...my leg hurts." Fíli whimpered desperately, using his hands to steady himself against the post of the bed, which despite all that had happened remained mostly intact. He gazed up at her with pleading eyes, wide and rimmed with tears. It was the best Fíli could do, not to cry; despite the pain he was experiencing then had been the most intense and horrid he had ever felt in his life.

                It was broken. It was obviously broken.

                Exhaling shakily, Dís took Fíli up into her arms again before running to the remains of the door. Fire had spread across the wooden debris and had engulfed much of the ground and the walls. It had to be of some immense arcane prowess, to have the ability to cling to the flesh of the mountain as if it were all but mere firewood. Immediately after the two of them had entered the hallway, a great pillar of stone came crashing down to their right; the direction of Kíli's room, and where Víli was too. Dís cursed loudly, instinctively flinching away and bringing her son closer to her chest to shield him from the embers which flared and hissed upon the stones impact to the floor. The heat of the flames that licked at her bare feet and arms was indescribable; and the smoke and fumes which they were emitting was enough to make even the most hardened of dwarven miners weak. They had to get out. They had to get out fast.

                "Dís!! Dís!!"

                It was Víli. He had clearly just reached the other side of the stone pillar, and he was trying his best to gain some sort of view at the hall beyond.

                "I'm here! I'm here. Have you got Kíli?" she yelled back, scarcely audible over the roar of the fire.

                "I have, he's alright! You're not hurt are you?"

                "No, no, I'm fine I just, I think Fíli's leg is broken!"

                Víli cursed loudly again, and then it was silent for a few moments. Dís was desperately relying on him to come up with a plan. And that he did.

                "Okay, I'm going to go take the exit from the South Wing. Get a pony ready, I'll meet you as soon as I can." he called, and Dís could do nothing else but agree.

                And so she ran. She ran as fast and as carefully as her feet could carry her. It was an immense stroke of luck that their chambers weren't too much of a distance to the exit on the East Wing; however the same couldn't be said for the route her husband was taking. Fíli whined in pain on occasion, which stabbed at Dís' heart, but she knew that no matter what she couldn't stop; not even when the glass from shattered windows cut into her feet and staggered her progress.

                The entirety of Erebor had been struck by those arcane flames. Statues were alight, the great forges seemed to be all but engulfed and blazing dangerous deep purple hues tinged with white. Dwarrow were screaming and running, all making their way to their nearest exit as the walls of flame surrounding them seemed to draw nearer and nearer with each passing second. Dís had become all but oblivious to her surroundings, until a familiar voice pulled her back into reality.

                "By Durin's beard, Dís! I'm over here!" It was the familiar accent which could only belong to a very individual tattooed dwarf.

                "Dwalin! You're alive! Have you seen Thorin?" she managed to shout as she stumbled to close the space between them. By now, the pain that he was in had rendered Fíli unconscious, and he lay limply in his mother's arms, skin pallid as a cold sweat clung to his brow.

                "Look, I've no right to ask you of this, but please, take Fíli and look after him. I have to find Víli and Kíli. Leave without us if you must. Just keep my son safe." she pleaded breathlessly, the sweat and dust from the fire clinging to her skin, as it was to the skin of all. Dwalin didn't even think twice about it as he carefully took the dwarfling from her arms. He noted the broken leg and nodded his understanding to Dís, whose body relaxed ever so slightly at the knowledge that at least one of her sons would survive. She planted a grateful kiss to the warrior's cheek before turning on her heels and rushing back in the direction of the South Wing. By her life, her sons were getting out of this alive.

                Dwalin exhaled through his nose, examining the current condition of the young dwarf hanging so limply from his gentle grasp. Then he too turned and began to run back in the direction he had come, to where Thorin was waiting with enough ponies for three. Their tack had all but been forgotten in the haste to evacuate the city. Thorin's relieved expression was wiped and immediately replaced  by one of immense concern as soon as he laid eyes on the ashen complexion of his nephew being carried by his closest friend.

                "Where's Dís?" he asked, voice cracking unintentionally from the stress.

                "She said to go on without her. Fíli's leg is broken. I say we get out of here and find a physician as soon as we can." Dwalin advised.

                 Thorin nodded, and offered out his arms to take Fíli so that Dwalin could mount up. Within minutes the two of them had sped off, riding their ponies as fast as the land would take them. Thorin had an idea of where they could go; a place far across the Misty Mountains, a place uninhabited by man, elf or beast.

                Ered Luin.

 


	3. May Mahal Guard You I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so short! Part two should be up soon babies <3
> 
> feedback is appreciated, I'd be curious to know where you think this will go!

"I say we head to the Iron Hills. We could gather provisions and get Fíli's leg in a splint." Dwalin suggested, spurring his pony to catch up with Thorin, who was riding with more intensity than ever.

                Thorin glanced down at the still unconscious dwarfling cradled against his chest; and cursed under his breath when he saw how rapidly Fíli's condition was worsening. This wasn't the result of merely a broken leg. As if to testify that observation, Thorin became suddenly and horrifically aware of how hot his hand was, which had curled around his nephew's side to secure him. Upon withdrawing it a fraction he could see that the majority of his palm was stained and his fingers were dripping with glinting crimson blood. Fíli whimpered softly as his uncle pulled his hand away, which had been the only thing stemming the flow of blood. Panic rose in the prince as well as bile in his throat, and after swallowing it back he turned his head to look at Dwalin with desperation. He nodded.

                "Aye. Inform any survivors to head to the Iron Hills as fast as they can. I'll make safe - and Dwalin - I need not say this, but watch yourself. Do not look to lend your axe to anyone who cannot be saved." Thorin said, voice solemn. Dwalin gave him one last final nod in farewell, then dwarf warrior pulled back his pony, spun it, and within seconds was galloping back to the ruins of Erebor, which even from their distance could be seen aflame in monstrous wisps of blues, purples and greens. It was a fire nobody had ever seen before.

                Thorin's head turned as he watched his best friend depart.

                "Mahal guard your paths, friend." he murmured.

                And with that, Thorin urged his pony onwards, steering it towards the vast hills becoming visible against the fog that hugged the horizon. 

                Prayers for the dwarfling's life were murmured against hope under Thorin's breath as he clasped his hand back over the wound, which he could only blame not noticing sooner on the chaos they had only just escaped. Fíli had also done a brilliant job to conceal it from his elders until it had clearly worsened beyond his control. He always had a determined heart to keep others from concerning themselves over his welfare.

           

                Not long since Dwalin had departed, there was a deep rumble that shook the earth, throwing Thorin's pony off-balance and as a result crashing to the ground with a distressed squeal. Curses spilled from the dwarfs' lips as he did his best to shield his nephew from the force of the fall, and he managed to land on his back with Fíli tucked in close to his chest.

                Having hit his head terribly from the fall, it took more effort than it should have but eventually Thorin got to his feet, dazed. In his arms still was the unconscious and unmoving dwarfling, and after assuring himself that Fíli was unharmed, he made his way back to the pony, which was just managing to stand as well. It took one terrified look at Thorin before rearing up when his arm extended towards it and galloping away as quickly as its legs allowed.

They were on their own, with no hopes for any aid.

                Within moments of Thorin rearranging his thoughts, another tremendous growl of thunder shook the ground beneath them, only to be followed by the unmistakable sound of a war horn.

                _It couldn't be._

Each of the seven dwarf lords had their own unique battle cry, and what Thorin then heard chilled him to the bone. The echoing chant of thousands of dwarf warriors bellowing at the top of their lungs and bashing their shields in unison resounded through the mountains around them, seeming to amplify it to a deafening crescendo before going completely silent only seconds after.

                Erebor was lost. That much was certain. Thorin's only hope of getting away with his life was to just run, to make haste to the Iron Hills as fast as he possibly could.

                And run he did.

 

* * *

              

                The dwarf warrior spurred his pony forth, hearing clear as thunder the unmistakable battle cry and feeling the ground quake beneath his steed. He forced a glance behind him in hope to catch his old friend, outrunning the oncoming army, or just running. His stomach dropped when the sight of Thorin's mount galloping back to him - without a rider - appeared in his view instead. There was absolutely no chance of Thorin reaching the Iron Hills on foot in time to save both himself and Fíli.

                But that wasn't something Dwalin could spare himself to think about at that moment. He had to focus on finding Dís and Víli, and perhaps most importantly Kíli; all before the army arrived and claimed all that was now theirs.

                In reality, everyone should have seen it coming. The seven dwarf families of middle-earth had been in constant turmoil for hundreds upon hundreds of years. The family of Durin originally held the most influence over the land, having possession of the mightiest of the seven rings of power, and building their kingdom inside the body of both the largest and richest mountain in the realm. Naturally, there were disagreements among the families, and so the Durin bloodline became the sworn enemy of the line of Oald, for they believed that the treasure hoard of Thrór should not be bound to just one house, but shared out to all. In the unyielding grip of goldsickness, Thrór had cursed all who agreed, and insisted that the right to his treasure would be reserved for the Durins and they alone, and that the Arkenstone belonged to no other dwarf than he.

                And so the great feuds of the families began. The Ironfoots, along with the Thunderforge clan, the Durin's closest of kin by blood, allied themselves, erecting watchtowers and building military encampments where battles over strongholds were fought. Whereas the family of Oald, backed by the remaining three clans, promised to one day storm Erebor, and take the gold for themselves, and thus end the line of Durin.

                It had appeared that day has come.

                Nobody believed it would, and they had lived in stead with each other, only the occasional fleeting battle over a safe passage through the mountains being most of what the Durins had to concern themselves with. However, they had never so much as thought to fortify their walls, and were foolish enough to think that their house would endure.

                Dwalin reached the concealed entrance into the mountain, and leaving his pony at the gate, raced in to find his kin. The entire mountain seemed to be swallowed by the flame, casting everything seen in a disturbing pale green tinge fading to blues. But he ignored the heat and the jaws of fire that seemed to reach out and bite into his flesh as he forced aside blazing rubble and great remnants of pillars of rock. He was making his way to the royal chambers, where he knew Dís would be. She and Kíli were his top priority, but if he could save Víli as well, then by the gods, he would.

                The private quarters were in no better state; if not worse off than the rest of the kingdom. It seemed that whoever had planted the seeds of the flames knew their way around the fortress, and had sought out to destroy the heirs of Durin. Dwalin could hardly make out two feet before him, everything being engulfed in flame and smoke, everything in ruins. He called out to Dís once, twice, a third time between coughs, and eventually heard a response over the screaming crack of the inferno.

                Dís stood in one of the furthest bedrooms, entire body shaking as she fruitlessly attempted to unblock the barricade that had been created by the falling debris.

                "Bless me, Dwalin! I need you! Kíli is still in here!" she shouted, although her voice was evidently weak with exhaustion. She herself appeared as if teetering on the very knife edge of consciousness. Dwalin finally reached her after forcing his way and torturing his hands to push aside the burning rubble. Dís' attempts never ceased, although despite her best efforts, , the room remained sealed shut. There had been no response from Víli, so she had already assumed the worst, and her grief fuelled her desperation to reach her youngest son. Even with the immense strength of Dwalin at her aid, their attempts proved futile, and there had been no cry from Kíli either to urge them to continue.

                In the end, and with a heavy heart, Dwalin had taken hold of Dís, who was by now sobbing hysterically at her loss, and forced her away from the corpses of her beloved. Much rather the two of them be spared than serve the rubble of a once great kingdom as their tombs. He managed to get her out of Erebor completely, ignoring her pleas of protest and curses upon his name. For Dwalin knew she didn't nary mean a word of it.

                The two of them rode on in silence, it only being broken for Dwalin to draw the attention of every dwarf he could, to inform them of the plan to head to safety in the Iron Hills, but also to prepare themselves for the slim chance of reaching there, thanks to the army of immense number and power on their doorstep. A hidden passage through the side of the mountains is what he advised all to take, and cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Both Thrain and Thrór had not been seen, but light was shed once it became known to Dwalin that the high king was in his treasury, armed to the teeth and prepared with all the wrath of the ages to defend his gold. Being his son, Thrain had done naught but stand by his side. Upon hearing this, Dwalin was thankful to no ends that Thorin had not been foolish enough to rally with them also. They were as good as bloodied corpses now that he knew what was to come.

 

* * *

 

                 Thorin was ready to collapse by the time the gates of Dain's kingdom came into distant view, shrouded by veils of thick fog clinging to the rocks. The dwarfling in his arms shook with each irregular breath as he buried himself further into the furs of Thorin's coat, which had been wrapped around him in a vain attempt to shield him from the vicious bite of the wind.

                It had been three days since the capture of their homeland, three days since Thorin had so much as caught glimpse of another dwarf. For all he knew, everyone who once called that mountain home had been slaughtered, his sister, brother, father, grandfather; his friends, his subjects, his tiny, tiny nephew, barely old enough for his eyes to change colour from that pale milky blue of newborns. All could have been lost to the army marching forth to claim what they had destroyed. During that time, Thorin had barely stopped his pursuit of the Iron Hills, only setting up camp once to try and moderate the dwarfling's wound and bind it with rags, although the blood seemed to never cease its flow. It was a wonder to him how Fíli was still alive; but his rapidly deteriorating condition made clear that he wouldn't last much longer.

                "We're almost there now, Fíli; hold on." he whispered through chattering teeth, pressing a kiss to the top of Fíli's frost-dusted hair.

                The two of them pushed onward, Thorin stumbling over his boots as they forced into the deep snow. The blood on his hands had long since dried, caking against the rolls of ice that travelled on the wind. Fíli was conscious, and had been since they had left their camp early that morning. They had hoped against hope to beat the oncoming snowstorm, but only ended up in its epicenter. The worst lay behind but also before them. Thorin just prayed that they reach the Iron Hills before that happened, and the barren wasteland between kingdoms became their grave, and their memories forgotten.

                 Not an hour later, his legs buckled beneath him, and Thorin collapsed, entire body shaking and stilted from the cold. Fíli lay once again limp, and unresponsive when Thorin desperately called his name. Thorin coughed up the ice that hardened his airways and willed himself back onto his feet, hauling his nephew back into his arms, heart fracturing as Fíli's limbs ragdolled from the movement. They were almost there; Thorin could vaguely see it through the never ending furls of snow. He staggered forth, progress slow as he could barely keep on his feet.

                He doesn't remember when it was that his vision darkened and he could continue no more.


End file.
